


A Bed of Flowers in Spring

by vivilove



Series: Beddings at Winterfell [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Smut, Horny Jon, Marriage, Parenthood, Post Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 09:32:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10086524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Spring has returned.  The King in the North and the Lady of Winterfell are happily married and are planning to take their children on a picnic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Though part of a series, this work can be enjoyed without having read the others.

Spring had returned. The long winter had passed and it was not near so long as many had feared. Perhaps winning the war against the Walkers had brought the spring sooner than expected. Perhaps there would finally be a balance to the seasons as the maesters predicted might happen someday. But who could say? Nothing is certain and Jon and Sansa knew that better than most people.

They had been raised as siblings after all and he had been ostracized in many ways as the Bastard of Winterfell. Neither could have ever guessed then that they would someday be husband and wife just as Jon would never have guessed he would someday be a king. And there were so many experiences in between being children together at Winterfell and who they were now on this spring day that it seemed unfathomable at times that they had truly lived through it all.  Some of those things had been quite horrible.

But today in the godswood, as Jon sat cleaning his sword and sharpening it beneath the Heart Tree, it was simply not possible to brood over the bad things that had happened in the past. The day was too fine. The air smelled too sweet. Even given what he’d had to do earlier this morning as part of his duties as Lord of Winterfell and King in the North could not oppress his spirits for long. And his children’s laughter and childish shouts could be heard in the distance. _Only the most querulous of men could find a reason to_ _complain on this fine day whatever the future might hold_ , Jon thought.

The godswood remained in a perpetual half-twilight it seemed from the canopy provided by the large trees that had grown there for ages. The ground was covered in generations of decaying leaves that muffled footsteps even better than the snow could. But Jon’s ears were sharp and he heard his wife’s approach.

She did not speak right away. She watched him sharpen the blade. _Our blades are sharp_ , a voice whispered in her ear. Sansa shook off the voice. It did not speak to her often anymore…no more than she heard the other cruel voices that used to haunt her. Jon’s eyes narrowed slightly. He could read her so well at this point, even when she put on her queenly mask to hide her feelings and opinions from others. She smiled to reassure him that she was well.

“So, here I find you at last, my king,” she said as though she’d been seeking him far and wide.

It was a game of sorts between them. She knew where he would be today after he took a life. The rapist had been captured near Cerwyn lands but had been brought back to Winterfell to face the King’s Justice. Just like her lord father, Jon never shirked his duty even when it was not pleasant…not that Jon had much sympathy for a rapist.

“Here you find me, my queen,” he replied. “Where are the children?”

Sansa smiled to herself. He would always ask her that when she came to him here. “They are playing in the courtyard. They are wondering if you’ve forgotten our plans today.”

“I’ve not forgotten,” he said as he gave Longclaw a final rub. “Let us gather them and go.”

 

Sansa saw Ned and Little Robb run to their father in the courtyard all out of breath from their play. Robb was nearing his third nameday but he already held his small wooden sword just as his father had shown him. Arya, who had turned five a couple of moons ago, hung back watching them all and observing her father closely. She was always so sensitive to Jon’s moods, much like her aunt and namesake had always been. She knew nothing other than that her father had had to leave early this morning to attend to some duty but the child had immediately discerned that it was unpleasant and she knew when he retreated to the godswood alone he was feeling somber. When Jon beckoned to his daughter though she raced across the muddy yard and jumped into his arms, her skinny arms wrapping around his neck as he lifted her up and held her tightly.

Sansa felt her heart glow and her eyes water and was saved from making an unladylike scene of sobbing there in the yard by the appearance of the nurse and her charge. Nalla had brought Baby Bran out to Sansa clucking over the new tooth that was nearly through and the two women fell into an informed discussion regarding the troubles of a teething babe and lamented that it seemed to trouble the poor boy the most during the night when mother and nurse alike longed for sleep.

Sansa looked up and caught her husband staring rather intently at her. She knew that look well. She saw it daily of late, sometimes two or three times a day. _Gods, he’ll have me_ _with child again before Bran’s first name day at this rate_.

Nalla noticed as well and, as she was one of the Free Folk and not accustomed to the demure behavior of a typical servant, felt free to speak her mind to her queen. “That husband of yours plans to have you on your back before the sun has set, milady,” she said wagging her finger at Sansa.

It was true. Jon was an ardent lover most of time but lately… _he’s insatiable_. And while it pleased Sansa in many, many ways… _oh, he is certainly pleasing_ …she had just managed to regain her figure from having Bran and wasn’t quite ready to start the whole process all over again.

Still, there was the dream that they both shared of their little pack. It was a recurring dream and in it they had three sons and two daughters playing in a field with direwolf pups snapping at their heels while Ghost and a female direwolf watched. And in the dream, Sansa would ask Jon for another and offer to give him another son.

 _If the dream is true, Arya and our boys will gain a sister next. What will we name her?_ Sansa had loved her mother but she wasn’t sure she could name one of Jon’s daughters after the woman that had treated him so coldly. _What about Lyanna?_ Again, there was pain attached to that name. _Perhaps it will come to us when she is born_ , Sansa decided laughing at herself for naming this hypothetical daughter when she’d just been scoffing at the notion of being with child again so soon. _We could name her Daenerys…but_ _perhaps not_ , Sansa thought as a sardonic smile spread across her face. She had no true quarrel with her husband’s aunt, not anymore, but she could not claim to be all that fond of the Mother of Dragons.

Sansa spotted Ghost by the stables watching the children while Jon and the stable lads readied the horses and Ned’s pony. He was always following the children these days. Rarely, would Sansa see Ghost sitting at Jon’s feet now in their chambers. _We’ve not found her yet, boy. Maybe soon_ , Sansa thought remembering the other component of the dream. _What would it be like to have a litter of direwolf pups roaming the castle again? We could name one Lady…perhaps we could name one of_ them _Dany. Sansa, be nice_ , she admonished herself as Jon strode forward to take Bran from Nalla.

“Ready, my love?”

“Yes,” she replied drawn from her musings.

 

Sansa watched her children run across the field shrieking as their father chased them laughing. He’d been napping on the blanket after their picnic amongst the flowers of the field when Ned and Arya had snuck upon him and doused him with water from the stream nearby. How they had managed to keep the water in the leather satchel they’d used without it spilling or seeping out before they reached him, Sansa was not sure but she had laughed along with them when Jon jolted awake and sat up bellowing from his unexpected rousing. Robb had been following at a distance, laughing along with them but fearful of their father’s reaction. Then, Jon had stood up and promised to catch each child and tickle them in turn until they were breathless.

Ghost was chasing Jon as he chased his children, no doubt to be certain that his friend did not go too far in this game. Sansa watched Ned race ahead, his seven-year-old legs pumping fast to outpace his siblings. His curly mop of black hair, so like his father’s, was an absolute mess. His bright blue eyes were shining with joy as his sister was caught and screamed bloody murder while her father took his revenge. When Ghost decided she’d endured enough tickles, he’d rammed Jon in the shoulder causing Jon to fall on his arse in the field and start laughing again. Arya retreated out of arm’s reach and laughed with him.

Robb was caught next. His auburn hair and blue eyes reminded Sansa so much of his uncle. He’d been laughing during the chase but started to cry when Jon snatched him up. Ghost growled and Jon immediately sat down in the field with his son, gently holding him. He touched the little boy’s face and solemnly swore that he would not tickle him if Robb would give him a kiss instead. Their sweet son stood and kissed his father on top of his head before racing off after his sister.

This left only Ned to capture. He was fast for seven, but Jon was still quicker and Ghost seemed to think that as the prime instigator of the prank perhaps Ned deserved his punishment. So Ghost joined the pursuit and soon was blocking Ned’s escape. When Jon caught him, Ned squealed and tried to escape by wrestling away from his father. But he was no match in strength yet and he finally submitted to his tickles laughing heartily until he was released.

The babe sleeping in the basket next to Sansa gave a soft little whimper and she leaned over to check on her youngest. He was still sleeping soundly.

“Mother, mother!” Ned and Arya thundered up shouting and Sansa had to hide her pique that they would disturb the infant.

“What is it?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Father said we could go to the edge of the wood and pick the blue flowers that grow there for you but said we must ask your leave first,” Ned shouted as though she was not sitting right in front of him and she cringed glancing at the sleeping babe again.

“Why would you need to ask me if your father has said? Never mind…yes, you may go.”

“May Robb come, too?” Arya asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “But don’t wander too far!” she finished as they ran off over the hill and just out of sight. Jon came over and looked at Bran sleeping in his basket. He then flopped down beside her on the blanket. He was grinning from ear-to-ear as he put his hand on her knee. “Did you do that so you could take a nap in peace this time?” she asked with a smirk.

“No…I had something else in mind,” he said moving his hand up her knee. His eyes had darkened already and his voice had become husky with desire.

 _Gods…there’s that look again_ , Sansa thought as she could feel the wetness already soaking her smallclothes.

“The children are not that far away…”

“Far enough though.”

“They’ll be back soon with their flowers.”

“I told them not to return until they’d collected a hundred.”

“Jon!” she said with a scowl that quickly became a grin. “What am I to do with you?”

“Sansa…I need you, my beauty. They’ll be alright. Ten minutes is all I’m asking. You’d only have to lift your skirts for me and I’ll do all the rest, I swear.”

“My wolf sounds quite desperate,” she teased sliding her own hand up his thigh now to grasp his cock through his breeches and pulling a pitiful sounding groan from her husband.

“Aye, your wolf is dying with longing for you.”

 _So much for ladylike decorum today, Sansa_. She nodded to him, laid back on the blanket and lifted her skirts eagerly. Jon rolled on top of her and was soon deftly stroking her nub with his finger through her small clothes while he gave her soft, open-mouthed kisses on the throat.

“So wet already, my sweet girl,” he rumbled. “Shall I taste you first?”

“No…we don’t have long. Please, Jon…I need you, too.”

“Ah, so I am not alone in my desperate longing?” he asked with a smug smile.

“You will be if you don’t shut up and make love to me,” she replied haughtily.

He chuckled and kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth as they both groaned. She could feel his hard length pressed to her center though his breeches and her small clothes were still in the way. She reached down to help him with his lacings, merely lifting his jerkin to reach them. He pushed them down only enough for his cock to spring free and Sansa wrapped a hand around him, gently pumping while his own hands ripped her smallclothes off.

“My maids all blush at how often I have to mend my smallclothes, you know.”

He looked abashed for just a moment before a wicked grin spread across his face and he said, “I’ll just keep these then.”

“Keep my ruined small clothes?”

“Aye, I will keep them in my pocket and pull them out to smell your sweet scent when council meetings grow too tedious.”

“Jon!” she gasped, smacking him playfully on the shoulder.  He stilled above her and his deep brown eyes sought her blue ones. She nodded to him before he entered her in one thrust.  “Gods…Jon,” she moaned into his neck. His hips started moving, thrusting rapidly.

“Sansa… _ohhh_ , gods…my darling wife…I have missed you.”

“Since yesterday when you had me?” she laughed.

“Gods, yes… _unnn_ …since yesterday when I… _ohhh_ , fuck…had you. I think you missed… _ahhh_ …me, too.”

Sansa stopped teasing and talking altogether for she could feel her peak already building. He was right. She had missed him, too. Their couplings were often hurried these days with four children needing attention on top of the demands that their duties asked of them. And Sansa missed the days when they could lie abed together all day to nip and kiss and make love as often as they wished. _Not that we had so many of those before Ned and the war_.

“ _Ohhh_ …Jonnnn,” she cried as her release was nearly upon her.

He thrusted even harder then as Sansa clutched at his shoulders. He knew she was almost there and he wanted to come at the same time. He grasped her hips tightly as he pounded away, feeling the tight grip of her cunt around his cock as he moved inside of her walls that were already clenching up, ready to milk every drop of his seed he would soon be spending within her.

“Fuuuckk… _uhhh_ …Sansa…” he panted in her ear as his own release hit. He grunted loudly and kept pumping into her.

“Yes…yes… _mmm_ …Jon…oh, gods!” she sobbed as she came right after, grasping his arse to pull him hard against her bud as her pleasure exploded over her.

They lay locked together like that for a minute or so to catch their breaths. Just as Jon prepared to move, they heard a small voice.

“Are you tickling Mother now?” Robb asked from behind them.

Sansa’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed scarlet at once. Jon could feel the heat in his own cheeks as he was covering his wife, his cock softening instantly though still inside of her. He tried to imagine what their small boy was seeing. _Just a bit of his mother’s legs and me laying atop her…no more. Gods, be good…how will we get up and covered_ _without him seeing more though? And what if the other two return? She’s going to make me pay for this…I just know it._

Jon looked over his shoulder and saw the not-quite-three-year-old was not at all concerned by what he was seeing at present and decided that was a good sign. He was grasping a handful of the blue flowers.

“Um…yes, Robb…I was tickling Mother but she was…frightened by my tickling…like you were. So, now I’m holding her.”

“And is she going to give you a kiss?” the boy asked.

“Yes…she's going to...give me a kiss,” Jon breathed.

The sweet boy looked at his mother and said, “Don’t be frightened of Father, Mother.”

“I’m not. Not now,” Sansa managed to say with a straight face though Jon could feel the giggles building in her belly.

 _Well, that’s a good sign if she’s about to laugh_. “Uh…Robb? Would you be a good lad and fetch your mother three yellow flowers now. There are some right by the blue ones, I believe.”

“Yes, Father! One, two, three!” the boys shouted, eager to go and do his father’s bidding.

As his little legs carried him away, Jon looked back at his wife. “So…I guess you were right about…”

“You’re a terrible liar. Thank gods it was him and not Ned or Arya.” She saw her husband’s contrite face and he was opening his mouth to apologize no doubt when she said, “Shut up and kiss me, Wolf.”

He kissed her sweetly before they swiftly righted their clothes. They were lying side by side on the blanket and perfectly decent now, barring Sansa’s missing smallclothes, when the three children returned and started covering them with the flowers they had plucked.

“You look tired. Perhaps you should nap now,” Arya said to them both, gently placing a flower in Sansa’s hair.

Ned laughed and said, “If you fall asleep in the field, an enchantment might take you. You might not wake for many days. Perhaps it will be summer when you wake.”

“I hope not,” Sansa answered. “I think I’d rather enjoy the spring for now.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the final vignette to follow-up 'A Bedding at Winterfell' which was the first fanfic I wrote. I've enjoyed writing these vignettes to revisit a happily married Jon and Sansa in the canon setting. Hope you've enjoyed the series and thanks for reading!


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